


Under My Skin

by Sweet_Espresso



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Animal Traits, Animal Transformation, Bilbo is So Done, M/M, Oblivious Bilbo, Overprotective Thorin, Protective Thorin, Wolf Pack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:40:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25200295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sweet_Espresso/pseuds/Sweet_Espresso
Summary: It's early in their journey and everyone's still getting used to the soft hobbit, but there's a reason that hobbits don't leave the Shire. Bilbo's got a secret that might get him killed. And this dwarf pack may be willing to do it.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield
Comments: 12
Kudos: 176





	1. Chapter 1

Bilbo’s Other was quivering, and it was getting worse.

It was something unspoken, a hobbit’s other skin. Bilbo was fairly certain that all the peoples of Middle Earth had their own form that directed their abilities, though Bilbo wasn’t fond of the concept. At all.

Deep, deep, waaay down deep inside he had shoved his Other in the attempt to ignore its existence. Especially nowadays. Running for your life does that to you.

He was far from his smial and far from what was left of home. And his Other was scared.

He was afraid that the dwarves could _smell_ it.

All he knew was that he didn’t belong.

Bilbo heard Oin and Gloin tromping off as the Ri’s returned and settled in together, Dori dipping his chin towards Thorin in acknowledgement. One by one, family groups would shuffle off into the darkness, and upon their return settle in a big group around the fire. There they would trade stories, sing, tease, and eventually tussle each other with abandon.

Bilbo, while not ignored, seemed to be… tolerated, to a point. He was slowly getting to know them, getting more comfortable with individuals, but that was during the day. After things had settled for dinner (or what would pass as), something shifted. There was no verbal acknowledgement. Just glances, grunts, and a coordinated sending of groups into the night until they sat together in the end and sang.

Bilbo was not welcome in this.

It was unspoken but understood. He attempted to ask about it early on but was shut down. He didn’t dare ask again.

Bilbo watched Dwalin and Balin drift past until his eyes met Thorin’s, and he dropped his gaze between his feet with an anxious twitch of his nose,

Whatever they needed to do in the twilight, his Other had no place there. But he needed to acknowledge it, and soon. The instincts were brimming too close to the surface, his control frayed and thin. He knew, he knew – that the Company was shedding their skins and letting their spirits free, but into what he wasn’t sure. Dwarves are notoriously private of their traditions and history, and one fake burglar had no place to learn it.

The tender area behind his ears shivered. He had waited too long.

Bilbo forced himself to take a breath. Another. Again, In and out, slowly, as the dwarves finished their rotations and settled around the fire into song. No matter the general mood, they were social, tactile and connected in ways that made him _ache_.

Bilbo watched them a moment. In and out. In. Out. There’s nothing to fear, my heart. Just a moment. We’ll dance in the shadows, just for a quick moment, stretch our legs, then we can sleep. Bilbo’s nose twitched again. Then, as a log in the fire cracked and fell, there was a flash of his coat and the lone hobbit disappeared into the night.

\-----------

Just a prologue y'all! Let's see if it gets any bites :) I'll have the first real chapter out by the end of this weekend!


	2. Chapter 2

I haven't forgot Gandalf! ...okay, I totally forgot Gandalf, but I'm sure he'll find his way to the company soon! Precisely on time and all that :) Enjoy!

\---

You can’t mistake a hobbit for a true rabbit. Hobbit Others are larger in size with eyes much too intelligent to be mistaken otherwise. Their coats matched their hair color and texture, which meant that Bilbo was a rather densely coated curly rabbit with a splendid tail (or so others had commented behind his back). 

All of this was ridiculous considering his current circumstances. 

Bilbo sat between a bush and tree, well hidden amongst the shadows of the boughs, his nose twitching furiously.

His altered senses always brought to mind heavy rainfalls where the earth becomes rich and fragrant and teeming with life unseen, but that was neither here nor there. While Bilbo’s mind worked in both forms, here his thought processes were sharper and more darting in pure prey fashion. Focusing took more effort as his brain zeroed in on danger – food – safety – and again, danger. The world was a frightening place, and here below there was no avoiding it.

But Bilbo had changed skins to endure a Jaunt, and endure it he shall.

Hop, pause. Listen. Smell. Hop. Pause, hop. Listen! Smell. Wait, smell… Oh no oh no oh nonono…

Bilbo could smell them, and they were, or possibly had been, close. Bilbo’s Other knew this smell well.

Wolves.

His heart almost burst from his chest, but he kept himself still as his eyes darted around, checking, listening, because if they were here, he had no chance - And where there’s one, there will also be a pack. Bilbo has seen what a pack could do to a smial of hobbits. He’s seen it and his back bore testament to his own experience. Wolves will kill him. Long ago, they almost had.

Bilbo ran.

\--

It took some time of NOT getting chased for Bilbo to slow down. He darted through the forest much longer than he probably needed to, but he was alive and not being actively followed. He panted in the undergrowth, sides heaving, as he prepared for the next round of “is there something nearby that can eat me?” If Bilbo was standing as a hobbit, he would have wept, but his Other forced his eyes and ears open in expectation.

The moon shone bright on his surroundings. Bilbo found himself high enough to view the landscape that he could finally bring himself to relax. He knew he was too far from the dwarves, but the buzzing beneath his thick fur was making him reckless. And in a moment of pure abandon, Bilbo leapt high into the air and _ran_. 

Hobbit Jaunts are family affairs. Bilbo had strong memories of running alongside his parents, tussling with cousins and being groomed while surrounded by warmth and home. But that was then.

Now he ran through the only the motions of joy and abandon in an attempt to settle his Other’s yearning. Bilbo’s Other needed this. He, however, did not.

He hasn’t needed family in decades. He was strong and he was _fine_.

Instead he now has a routine that emulates a true Jaunt. And it works. He runs laps around the area counting out leaps over brush and stick and rocks until he falls over panting. Then he does it again. And once more. The exhaustion was wonderful. He found if he ran and leapt enough that the adrenaline would distract him from the hollow pit in his chest until his Other could rest and let him be.

Never mind that hobbit families would normally celebrate this about once a week. Bilbo learned that he could put all of this off for about a month, to the horror of his relatives. They had tried to invite him into their own family circles. Still Bilbo refused. Eventually they just stopped asking.

Bilbo knew what it was to be left alone.

With a huff he glanced at the passage of the stars. He had tarried too long. He needed to return and try to sleep before the company moved on. Before they noticed that he wasn’t where he was supposed to be.

He was approaching his sad pile of clothing when the scent hit him with a vengeance.

The wolves had come back while he was gone. They had been _here_.

Bilbo dressed as quickly as possible, barely keeping his balance as he turned in circles trying to watch out for an ambush. He’s never noticed, does he still smell like rabbit after his change? Would a wild wolf know the difference?

Would it care?

Bilbo barely kept from shrieking as he was seized from behind. And there stood Thorin Oakenshield.

“Master Baggins,” he growled. “Are you trying to get yourself killed, or have you no sense?” Bilbo opened his mouth to reply, but Thorin gave him a hard shake. “I don’t care what excuse you have, but do not leave the camp without telling us! This isn’t a hobbit countryside suited for picnics!” With a snarl, Thorin carted him back into camp and dropped him unceremoniously next to his bedroll. Bilbo lay there for a moment, shaking, as several dwarven chuckles echoed around camp. Without reply he rolled to face the darkness.

He swallowed his shame and fury and instead imagined the ways Thorin would look if Bilbo could pound his proud face with his hobbit feet. If the wolves did decide to show up, he’d simply point them in Thorin’s rotten direction.

He listened to the company settling into their family piles and tried to ignore the cold breeze cutting through his blanket.

He’ll be fine. He always was.

-

_Bilbo remembered a group of men that had camped outside the Shire. They hung around for a season in an attempt to find work and the hobbits in turn attempted to ignore them. His father had sat him down and explained in no uncertain terms that tiny Bilbo was to stay well away._

_“Men are dangerous my lad. They don’t understand what it’s like to be our size and they don’t care. And if that’s the worst of their crimes while here, then we’ll be lucky.” Bilbo had nodded gravely as if he understood, then politely asked for another scone. Fauntlings are always hungry and his father gave it to him with a wry smile._

_However, Bungo had forgotten that fauntlings were also curious. Bilbo blamed his Other for his inability to listen to Bungo Baggins’ that day. That day, Bilbo learned several things very well: that men could also change their forms, that they were nothing like hobbits, and that Bilbo’s father, in this case, knew what was best._

_Little Bilbo also learned that rabbits were prey. Yes, he learned a lot in the woods that day._

\--

“What are you doing?” Kili peered over Bilbo’s shoulder as the hobbit shuffled in the dirt. Bilbo sighed. Kili didn’t seem to be a bad sort, but he was young, loud, and tended to get himself in trouble with the others. Bilbo didn’t need trouble today. “Foraging.”

Kili huffed. “Oooh, yes, foraging. Makes perfect sense. You know that’s a _log_ , right?”

Bilbo snorted and continued digging around the loose loam. He could feel Kili staring at him and he bristled. “What?”

“Nothing.” Kili hopped over the log and squatted down, laying his head in his hands as he gazed at Bilbo. “Is this what you were doing last night? Foraging? When you disappeared?”

“I didn’t disappear.” Bilbo huffed, standing tall to peer down his nose at Kili. “I was exactly where I needed to be.” Then he strode away. Or tried to. Dwarven boots trotted after him. “Nope, you weren’t. Where you needed to be, I mean. If you were you would've been with us!”

Bilbo would’ve snarled, if he knew that he could sound fierce doing it. Any time he attempted to however, people tended to smile sweetly like he was doing something adorable. Bilbo instead settled for what he hoped was an impressive scowl.

“Oh, and you know this how? You don’t know where I was and you don’t need to know, Master Dwarf. I was perfectly fine!”

Kili stared at him quietly, and Bilbo tried to ignore how unsettled that made him. Tried to hold his ground when Kili stepped closer. His Other wanted to get away and he was stronger than that dammit!

But Kili only leaned in as if to impart a great secret. “Maybe you were, but there’s no guarantee in the wild. You’re one of us now Mister Boggins, and we can’t keep you safe if you run and hide.”

Oh, Bilbo could have hit him.

“I’m only ‘one of us’ when it happens to benefit your uncle and company! Don’t try to pretend we’re friends for it to serve your purpose! I am my own hobbit Master Dwarf, and I am perfectly capable to take care of my own needs when I need to!”

And with that Bilbo marched away with his head held high, no dwarf keeping pace. In his haste, however, he had trod all over the mushrooms he had been seeking. Bilbo returned empty handed and the company headed out after another plain breakfast. Bilbo had been left alone to his meal.

He blamed his Other for his lack of appetite.

-

Their party moved onwards, supposedly making headway towards the mountain. Bilbo glared at the horizon that refused to change. The dwarves still hadn’t attempted conversation that day.

But they were sure talking to each other.

He violently sniffled a sneeze back with a twitch of his nose as Balin, Dori, Bofur, Fili and Gloin held conference in a blurry of whispers and gestures. Thorin was supposedly part of it, though he said little, and only when Balin forced the issue.

They were talking about him gauging by the sneaking glances. Bilbo ignored them.

Eventually they dispersed and the company spread out as usual. Bilbo was positioned in the middle of the line with no one beside him. Bilbo sullenly imagined that they were concerned he would knock into them with his hobbit feet. They’d probably be right, though at this point it’d be intentional.

Bofur’s pony trotted forward to settle next to him. Bilbo eyed the sensitive part of the dwarf’s thigh and wondered if it would be worth it as Bofur inclined his head and grinned at Bilbo.

“Lovely weather we’re having, in’it?” Bilbo hummed noncommittedly. Bofur kept on. “O’course, it’s downright drafty at night, right? The season’s ready to change her skirt into something not quite as friendly, eh?” He waggled his brows enough to wiggle his hat and gently pressed his elbow into Bilbo’s arm. Bilbo just hummed again.

“And here you joined us with a skip and a shout, and I’m wond’ring if you brought enough to keep you snug as a bug, seeing as you’re afraid of bursting to flame by keeping away from the fire and the rest of us…” And with that, Bilbo gave a sharp grunt from the back of his throat and pushed his pony forward and away.

Dwarves.

-

Something was up and Bilbo was getting nervous.

The dwarves kept coming throughout the day, suggesting that he was weak and needy and trying to get him to _admit_ it! One by one they’d inquire if he was hungry, cold, lonely, missing home, asking about his family! Bilbo was getting more skittish than his pony. Then the wind took a drastic turn and clouds darkened the evening much faster than it ought to. A storm was coming.

Thorin sent Nori and Fili off to scout a place to bunker down. Bifur kept rubbing at his axe and muttering darkly, and apparently that was enough to convince the company that it would be a bad one. Bilbo didn’t need to open his senses or consult an axe. He could feel it in his toes. The storm wouldn’t be a passing fancy.

Nori and Fili rushed back with reports of a secure cave facing away from the winds sweeping in. Nobody argued the point and they turned towards it. Bilbo’s salty grumbles were swallowed up in the gusts. Great. He was going to be trapped in a cave with dwarves.

Lovely.

-

_Bilbo remembered fierce storms that would batter the Shire once or twice a year. He had loved them then, loved squeezing between his parents in their dry burrow deep within Bag End, feeling their hearts beating together as they kept Bilbo away from the opening. There he was safe and warm as they nuzzled, small huffs as his father scented him in the darkness as his mother groomed his ears. The world could have collapsed outside and there was nowhere else he wanted to be. Here he was safe and warm._

_After his parents died though, that sacred place became nothing more than a hole._

_He had attempted burrowing with others for the worst of the storms, but it became claustrophobic. He had taken to roaming instead in an attempt to ward off whatever dangers would come. The illusion of safety was broken. Bilbo would not be caught unaware again._

-

And so came the storm.

The nightly rituals had been put on hold, and the company made their customary bedding arrangements around each other. Bilbo settled in towards the opening, preparing for a long night.

And then came Dwalin. At first Bilbo kept his eyes on the tops of Dwalin’s boots as he waited to be growled at. So far the bulk of conversation between the two had been commands to Bilbo, growls at Bilbo, and jokes about Bilbo.

“Oy.” And here we go. Bilbo sighed and craned his head back to look at the warrior. “How can I help you Master Dwalin?”

The dwarf considered Bilbo quietly and Bilbo fought not to fidget. Again, this was… new.

“It’s cold.” Bilbo blinked, “Yes, I suppose it is.” Dwalin huffed.

“Get inside. I’ve got first watch.” Neither moved, except for Bilbo’s treacherous nose. “Ah, that’s fine, I’ll just be- hey!” Bilbo wasn’t fast enough, and Dwalin flopped down in the entrance, the force of it knocking Bilbo and his pack back and into the dirt.

“Get inside Master Burglar, you’re in my way.” Outraged, Bilbo leapt to his feet to give Dwalin a stern talking to. He was stopped abruptly by the force of the warrior’s glare.

He could feel the tips of his ears flushing red as he forced his mouth closed with a snap. Dwalin just raised a brow looking unimpressed and turned back to face the oncoming storm.

Dismissed and ignored, dammit!

“Mister Bil… Master Burgler, er, Baggins, there’s a spot over here!” Bilbo glanced back. Ori sat between his brothers, gesturing to an extra space between him and Dori. Bilbo stared. Then looked away. “Ah. I’ll be fine over here, thank you though.”

Bilbo turned away from the group again and attempted to find a not-as-wretched spot by the wall. He was joined within moments by Fili and Kili who flopped down on either side of him with no care for the stones beneath them.

“Oh yes, lovely spot this!”

“Mm, quite cozy for sure! D’you mind sharing with us?” Bilbo stared in horror at the pair of earnest faces. What on earth?

“It’s… I didn’t mean…” Bilbo shrugged both of them off. “Oh… bother! What on earth’s gotten into you?” 

The dwarves silently regarded each other. Balin sighed and sat up.

“It seems that we’ve been remiss in our actions.” He tapped his pipe against his knee thoughtfully. “I’m afraid that we haven’t had much dealings with hobbits and were under the assumption that your kind preferred solitude, your home being what it was. But Kili believes that we may have been incorrect and we’d like the opportunity to make amends.”

Bilbo turned a hard look at the youngest Durin. “I was not making a plea for help, Master Kili! I’m not some frightened creature that needs coddling on this venture!”

“Are you calling us weak Master Baggins?” The growl from the back of the group stopped Bilbo cold. Thorin slowly stood to his feet as he regarded Bilbo with fierce eyes. “Are you saying that our offer of kinship is something to be mocked?”

“No! No, of course not! I just meant that I didn’t need… well, that I’m old enough to…” He trailed off helplessly the red flooding his cheeks and neck. Damnation, this isn’t what he wanted!

“Do hobbits not have bonding groups then?” Dori asked, mending his brother’s coat. “The number of children rushing around, I didn’t think it was possible.”

“Aye, I’ve never seen so many pebbles!” Gloin chuffed into his beard, relaxing with his pipe against his brother. “Fauntlings,” Bilbo replied absently. “The little ones are fauntlings. And we do have bonding groups within families. Just, I… do not.”

“By choice?” Thorin had shifted closer and Bilbo eyed him warily. “Does it really matter?”

Thorin lowered himself down until he was eye level and Bilbo swallowed hard enough that it hurt. “If it chases you out into the wilderness where we can’t protect you, then yes. Like it or not Master Hobbit, you are here for a specific purpose and we need you alive to see it through.”

Ah. So that’s it then.

Bilbo dropped his eyes in submission. Fine.

“Initially, it wasn't by choice, but then nothing worked and I learned to be alone. I’m afraid I’d cause more issues than not in joining your… bonding group, as you call it.”

He sat there awkwardly in the dirt as Thorin watched him. Then Fili shifted closer.

“Would you let us try? I’ve seen what isolation can do to dwarves, and I’d hate to think of it happening to our hobbit.”

Our.

_Our?_

Bilbo stared at him. “Does this mean I’ll join you for your nightly ramblings?” He turned and stared hard at Thorin. “Am I welcome to change skins with your company each night?”

Balin cleared his throat. “Ah, that might not be the best of ideas lad. We’re not quite sure what your Other is, but ours…” Thorin gave a sharp faint growl and Balin stopped. Thorin turned back to Bilbo.

“What is your Other?”

Bilbo glared right back. “Tell me yours.” Thorin said nothing and Bilbo stood. “Well that’s that. Good night everyone.”

Bilbo pulled his pack to the other corner, away from the fire, away from the dwarves, and watched the storm drive in.

It was a long night.

\----

PS - look up curly rabbits, that's totally a thing! See you soon!


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